


in that crowd of thousands (i'd find her again)

by ivylynn



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivylynn/pseuds/ivylynn
Summary: Yang doesn't do well with ultimatums; it's all rushed decision-making at its finest, and she's always been the type of impulsive that goes for the finishing blow before examining the situation fully. She gets a lot of hits before that perfect shot, but in the end she nails it. She comes out a victor, the discrete crowd cheers, sometimes shouts her name out, chants it like she's some sort of celebrity.When it comes to life outside of boxing, it's not the greatest of techniques, Yang learns. Turns out, you can lose a lot more than a fight with those.





	in that crowd of thousands (i'd find her again)

**Author's Note:**

> title from _in a crowd of thousands_ from anastasia.

Yang has to fight.

It’s a thrill, a rush of adrenaline from fight to fight; something she does with gusto. She feels closer to the enemies in the ring than most people that come in and out of her life. It’s a strange addiction—spending the majority of her time with bruised knuckles—but that’s a part of the ecstasy.

When she starts, it provides a place to transfer her energy into, and she’s had a lot of that in her life. Energy and anger are what follows her in the night, staring into the ceiling wide awake. It’s not like she trains—not professionally—but she’s had sparring partners before, and working out is an important part of her regime.

When she moves to Beacon for college, she finally has a chance. It doesn’t bode well in the first few months. Too many fights, too little success. She’s living in a small apartment with barely any room to breathe, and she’s not going to pay for a gym membership, so she has other, unconventional ways to train in the city.

Some days, she spends in the barely equipped dorm gym that Weiss helps her get into, trying to find inner quiet when no one around her will shut up. Others, she gives up on that entirely and trains in the nearby park, punching the air or the trees, depending on her mood.

Somehow, the number of wounds slowly becomes outnumbered by the number of victories. And really, school was just never for her, she’s thankful. Her dad, on the other hand, is on a different page of the book, but he’ll catch up eventually. She tells him she has a job lined up that she can’t refuse, and every time he and Ruby are in town to visit, which is seldom, she pretends to go to work.

Her methods are far from sophisticated, but they work. And fighting… it runs through her soul, the only thing really there until she meets Blake. Even then, she admits, it’s like a drug being slowly replaced by another, seeping into different parts of her body that Blake hasn’t occupied.

Besides, her only passion cannot be a girl. That, she’s been warned about. There’s a lot to think about, she even puts it on a paper. The pros outweigh the cons; the number slowly goes down as her relationship evolves, but it’s the only income she’s getting.

So she has to continue, it’s not a choice until it has to be.

-

Blake’s floors have seen better days. Yang carries bandages to fights, but those do little until they’re at home and she can get the wounds subsided. It’s usually Blake above her as she sits on the sofa, making sure that every part of her body heals properly.

This time, it _feels_ different. Blake isn’t speaking, she doesn’t carry the tune of _You need to stop this, I can’t have your face permanently damaged_ or _You’re losing your agility, it must be all the sex._ And Yang can’t quip back, she has nothing to say. There’s an unfamiliar roughness in Blake’s touch; not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to feel.

When Blake’s done with putting a bandage around Yang’s shoulder, the mood in the room—thankfully lacking Ruby and Weiss this time—shifts dramatically. They’re looking at each other, and Yang… she can’t figure it out. She can’t read Blake’s eyes for an answer, for what she’ll say next.

She’s terrified. She’s the girl who takes on the fights everyone believes she will lose without a second thought, and here she is, in front of her girlfriend of three years, scared of what she’ll be told.

Yang’s about to ask her what she’s thinking, try to lighten the mood, but she never gets the chance.

"We're done here.” Nothing in Blake’s voice says that she’s talking about cleaning the blood off Yang. Yang swears that she could break the clock on the wall that keeps on ticking like _nothing_ is happening. “I don’t want make you choose, but I can't be on the sidelines anymore. It's me or fighting. I have no intention of watching you die." 

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._ It just carries on. And if Yang could focus on literally anything else, maybe she’d be able to form a reply, say that she’s fine with that, she’ll quit forever and find a regular way to pay the bills. She knows, she is acutely aware—she can’t do that. It’s a good and certain payout and that’s what she _needs_ right now.

But that’s not what Blake wants to hear. Blake wants to hear, no more fighting, I promise. Yang watches her and finally sees that the seriousness behind Blake’s gaze means trouble for her.

She must look dumb just sitting there, not saying a word as she stares, but words have never been her _thing_. Blake talks without a barrier and Yang could drown in her speeches. Yang speaks a language of few chosen words, saying whatever’s on her mind instead. And this? Blake not choosing her words even though Yang can almost see her practicing it in front of a mirror, it’s more of Yang’s thing. There’s no poetry behind it.

"I'm going to shower, and if you're here by the time I come out, I'll take it as you've chosen me." Just like that.

-

The body heals; Yang’s known that from the time she first broke an ankle after a nasty fall off a bike. Every flesh wound will eventually fade and the hurt is just a side effect that goes away far sooner after each fight.

She’s used to injuries like she’s used to Blake’s touch—each one a new mark for her skin to remember, soak up and bounce back. Blake is never rough, not by a long shot. Her hands graze over Yang lighter than any one person’s have touched her, leaving imprints only remembered by Yang, each and every one.

She barely walks out of Blake’s apartment, but there’s really no other choice. No other path to take this time. If Blake is giving her an ultimatum, then Yang knows there’s exactly one option on the table.

It’s a world in which she must _not_ choose Blake, and everything about it is new. Unexplored territory that frightens her more than any fight could. More than _anything_ could.

She walks the streets of Vale as fast as she can without every single step hurting. At least when she gets on the subway, she finds room to sit and rest her legs. Even sitting is painful, though Yang knows how to steer her mind clear of any injuries and shut the pain out. She’s experienced enough in that department.

Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s gotten used to the pain, there’s less time between fights, less time to heal. Eventually, every part of her body is back to normal, as it once was. _Perfect_ , Blake would say when kissing a spot that was once bruised. _Flawless_ , Yang would return, looking right at her.

There’s legal ways to fight, those that would provide care of medical professionals as well as boundaries to fighting. After the years of experience Yang has had underground, she’s pretty sure that she could get into those circles if someone important were to see her. She may have already considered it.

Fights come packaged with a contract, wrapped carefully into the mix with press and publicity that she doesn’t want. This way—it might be selfish, but at least Yang’s not constrained by rules and training to perfection. There’s a set of guidelines for the fights that she’s in, too, but the colors seep out of the lines sometimes, and she isn’t burdened by constant practice with a professional, who’ll tell her how not to punch, how to properly kick.

If she were a rule follower, she’d still be in school, studying to be an engineer or accountant or whatever else college has to offer. If she were, she’d still be with Blake.

Or maybe she never would have met her, there’s really no way to know. At two in the morning, getting off at her station, Yang’s not sure which option would have been better. If it all ends the same, with an emptiness inside her that she’s pretty sure hurts more than any of the injuries on her body, then maybe both suck and she’s just drawn a short straw in life.

But everything heals, and she knows that as she peels off the bandages and band aids, there’ll be a time when she’ll be able to peel off Blake. The impressions she’s left on Yang’s soul, the caring touch the lack of which can be felt, the long nights spent engulfed in stories of their days and childhoods, of kisses and moans, of sincerity passing between the two of them.

Everything heals; it _has to_.

-

Yang has no intention of telling anyone. If they want the information, they’ll notice it. Blake is a constant presence in her life, the lack of it is clearly visible. Weiss notices it as soon as Yang gets home that night.

She doesn’t ask any questions about it. They’re all reserved for a time when they’re more appropriate, so they focus on how she is physically, and Yang lets her know it’s all good, nothing that can’t heal. She doesn’t sound convincing, she hears herself as she lies. Every word she says is like it comes out of someone else’s mouth, and she soon realizes that she can’t mask it, not really.

And then Nora comes over the next day, and she notices, too. Unlike Weiss, subtlety has never been her strong suit. So when she asks, Yang tells her outright. She has no time to think about it, she is trying to focus on beating Nora at a stupid video game that’s been bought with the money that’s ruined now.

"You did _what_?" Pause. Like, the game is paused, Nora presses the button. It’s easy to just continue, but the controller is out of Nora’s hands as soon as she turns to face Yang, and not the TV. A victory like that is not really worth it.

Yang hurries things along. "I left. It was an ultimatum and I made my choice,” she explains, words she doesn’t know how they got there she uses so carelessly. It almost sounds like something she’s picked with a light heart and no worries on her mind. Like she doesn’t care at all when caring is the only thing she can think of. So she takes a step back: “She was the one who put us in this position."

"You left.” Nora’s not finished, she raises a hand to stop Yang from replying too soon. She’s just collecting her thoughts. “A three-year relationship.” _Three years_ sticks with Yang. Thirty-five months; to be completely honest, one thousand and sixty-two days. Yang’s spent the night calculating instead of sleeping. It only helped a little. “Over fighting?"

"It's what I do." The shrug that follows bears no honesty. She wants to brush it off, say that it isn’t a choice she’s had to think about. And maybe that would be more sincere, to tell Nora that. It’s the only thing she has now.

If Yang were anyone else, Nora would be too blunt for her. "Break hearts?" She’d be out of the apartment by now, well on her way to her own place. But Yang can take it; she sort of doesn’t have any other choice here.

So she just says, " _Fight_. She made me choose between her and making a living,” and she’s ready to get this conversation over with. She wants to physically remove herself from it, but it’d come at one point or another, anyway. A day after is better than bringing it up in a month.

"Are you sure you can live without her?"

Yang’s huff of what’s supposed to be annoyance is laced with doubt instead. She shakes her head, finds the most logical way she can to justify her choice. "Oh stop being overdramatic, there are seven billion people in the world, I'll find another her.” Yang says it like she’ll one day be able to mean it.

But there’s really no hope in her tone right now, and that’s something she’s aware she has to work on.

"I don't think you understand what you have with her,” comes far too quickly for Nora to have thought it through. Yang _loves_ that she has friends who will tell it to her straight; maybe tact is something Nora needs to work on. Especially when, “Had," follows before Yang can get a word in.

"Trust me,” Yang starts, an image of Blake in her mind clear as day, “I get it."

"Yeah, for _sure_."

By this time, Yang is done with the conversation. She has her reasons—Blake has her requirements; they don’t match up at this time. Maybe someday they’ll find each other again, start over.

For now, continuing Grimm Fighter X is easier than thinking.

-

( The first time Blake sees Yang fight, she's terrified. Boxing is something Blake has avidly avoided when it comes on TV. She’s tried watching Rocky too many times to count, and there was no way that she was getting through any of those attempts.

Gruesome wasn’t her genre; she likes romance, getting lost in the never-ending queue of novels instead of action movies.

Weiss tells her she’s met a girl, and extends an invite to the fight solely for the reason of being able to spend time alone with her without her sister in the way. Blake gets it, from Weiss’ perspective. She has trouble with regular conversations, amplified only by a romantic setting. So she follows along.

It’s the first event of the sort that she’s attending, and she knows as soon as she sees Yang that it won’t be the last. “You two sure look out of place,” Yang tells her and Weiss, but her eyes never actually leave Blake. Blake, for her part, chuckles.

“I wasn’t aware there was a dress code,” she says easily. She’s wearing jeans shorts and a simple black top, flat shoes that she curses under her breath as soon as her eyes land on Yang. She’d love to be on her level, but Yang is taller in her sneakers.

“Oh you,” Yang moves her gaze up and down Blake, like she’s evaluating her, “look perfect. Combined with Ice Queen over here, though… Not a good look.”

“Yeah?” Blake steps forward, bolder than she was just a second ago. “And who would I look better next to?”

Yang flashes a grin, raises her eyebrows—Blake could analyze every piece of this interaction in her head a hundred times over and nothing would ever make sense of it.

“I think you know that already,” Yang tells her, winking. A guy calls out her name twice before she acknowledges it. “That’s my cue, you should go find Ruby.”

And so they do. Blake has no idea what she expects, but it’s not Yang taking punches like it doesn’t faze her, finding a second to look at Blake. Or maybe she’s looking at her sister, which would be more logical. No part of tonight has a logical explanation, though.

Blake watches as Yang puts back twice the amount she gets. She winces when something is bound to leave a bruise, hands twitching.

I think you and Yang might hit it off, Weiss had said earlier. Blake had no idea how right she would turn out to be. She’s reminded to thank her later, when she lets Ruby and Yang wander off alone, makes sure that Yang’s wounds are tended to. They’re few and far between, the injuries, but Blake makes a big deal of them.

If Yang cares about her wounds, she doesn’t show it. It’s impressive, when Blake brings the little ice they could find to her forehead. They’re dangerously close, mere inches apart. Blake watches as Yang closes her eyes, drawing her in closer.

And then she lowers her head, smiles before they can kiss. “I don’t just kiss every person I meet,” she says, shaking her head. She’s not playing hard to get, but she’s also holding an ice cube to Yang’s forehead, and frankly she’s a little scared.

“What about a person who wants to take you on a date?”

She should probably say know; Blake knows. There’s more danger to Yang than Blake can handle, but she’s ready for a challenge. “She’d have to ask, first.”

“I’m asking,” Yang shoots out immediately. It makes Blake laugh, how effortlessly it comes. She’s a woman on a mission and Blake isn’t one to deny pure enthusiasm even after she’s taken punches just twenty minutes earlier.

“I’ll think about it.” )

-

Ruby comes back to the city, the blessing of her timing for going to Patch ending too soon for Yang to deal with it. Ruby’s brand is overbearing—something Yang can deal with on normal days, but these are the times that it’s the hardest.

She looks with pity in her eyes, tries everything to get Yang to look at her over the book that she’s reading. Trying to, anyway; she’s been stuck at the same page for so long, she’s stopped counting minutes.

"I had to find out from Weiss, huh?"

Somehow, the question hits worse than any pity that might have been thrown her way. So Yang does what she thinks is best: she feigns ignorance. "Find out what?" Ruby’s not falling for it. She never would, but anything is worth a try when Yang doesn’t want to discuss this anymore.

"You know what! Are you really breaking up?" Never one to beat around the bushes, Ruby gets it all out, but leaves room for hope. Always that hope; there’s none left in Yang, really. But she doesn’t fault Ruby, she wasn’t there to hear Blake’s voice so final and exhausted.

She just says: "Broke up, yeah." As if it explains everything.

"What did you do?"

There it is—the blame she’s expecting from everyone. Because Blake could never hurt her, everyone knows that. Not directly, anyway. It was always going to be Yang, she was destined to be the one who passes a line beyond return.

She’ll still defend herself. "Why would it be me, did _Weiss_ say it's _my_ fault?"

"No, she was actually pretty neutral,” Ruby tells her, voice much calmer than the first few questions were. When she sees surprise in Yang’s eyes, she provides further explanation, “I dunno if she knows what to think about it."

Now _that_ stings more. "So it's only my little sister thinking the worst of me?" Thinking the truth, in actuality; she knows Ruby means no harm, but it still hurts that she’d come at her like this. She doesn’t need kindness now, but she’d settle for pity over this.

"Not the worst. Yang,” Ruby calls for her attention, now more serious than ever. “ _Never_ the worst. You’re my everything.” There’s weakness in everything, is the only thing that Yang can think to tell her; she doesn’t. “But the way Weiss talks about Blake now, she seems really hurt,” and that’s something Yang knows she can’t compete with. Had she been there, red cheeks and tired eyes, maybe Ruby would have chosen a different way to talk to her. “She seems kind of broken.”

And you _don't_ , stays unspoken. _Ouch_. 

So Yang does what she knows best: she cuts straight to the case. "And I'm not? I just don't cry and whine about it, doesn't mean I'm not hurt." Yang leaves the book behind, any cover of it only a distraction now. Ruby winces at the way it hits the ground, and Yang visibly restrains herself.

"I know you are."

Yang throws her head back, making fists of her fingers. It’s second nature these days; Yang doesn’t like herself like that. "Then why are you accusing me?"

"Because you're the one with a ring box in your desk," Ruby takes steps closer, unfazed by her stance. The tense shoulders, clutched fists, eyes close to tears.

"A ring I have to pay off. And she said no fighting, so." Actions meet consequences, it all makes more sense than it should. But there’s no way that a break up between them would have ever made sense, not really. They’d been two souls merged into one, separated too forcefully, too soon.

The quiet that follows, it’s overwhelming. Ruby takes time to sit down next to her, a hand on Yang’s bent knee. Understanding passes between them, seconds resembling minutes; enough to make Yang’s mind go nuts.

"She said that?" Yang hasn’t heard Ruby so quiet in ages.

Her first instinct is to protect Blake, still. “I mean, she was scared, I got pretty banged up a few days ago." It truly is a valid excuse for splitting, telling Yang to go. She shouldn’t be worried for Yang for the rest of their days, she should move on.

And then Ruby’s mad again. "This happened _a few days ago_ and you didn't tell me?" Fights barely happen nowadays when Ruby isn’t around, only one or two in her years in the underground while Ruby was at Beacon. It’s not something Yang plans, but what she gets. Their family of three has been too close for Ruby to let her go through it alone.

"Chill out, I wasn't going to put it on blast," 

"I'm your sister, Yang. You can talk to me."

"I know I can." Pause. "I just don't trust that I can do that without breaking down right now."

And perhaps that night, she does break down. In the safety of night, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let the night know all of her fears. There are no audible signs, she doesn’t let it get that far. Loud and overbearing is inside her, reserved for happier occasions. This time, silence speaks of more wounds than she can count.

-

( The first date they go on, Yang shows up late for. Blake is on time as always, but when she sees Yang, she doesn’t care for the few minutes of waiting. Yang draws eyes to herself naturally when she’s in a room, at least Blake learns that quickly. She’s late, but stunning all the same.

It only takes a second for her to forget that she’s been waiting.

Yang waltzes into the booth, like carried by wind. She has a hint of mischievousness in her smile. "Come here often?" she asks, winking at Blake. There’s something to be said here about how effortlessly Yang flirts, but Blake can’t quite put her finger on it. She won’t rest until she finds it, buried behind Yang’s piercing gaze, waiting to be discovered.

So Blake plays along. "Only when a hot girl asks me on a date." It doesn’t happen often, she doesn’t say. Or maybe Blake doesn’t let it happen that plays the bigger part. She’s been with people, and this year is supposed to be calmer, focused on _her_. The air around Yang doesn’t leave room for rejection and that’s a good enough excuse to break any rule.

"She must be a looker to get you in a place like this," Yang tells her, as if she believes Blake would agree to a date in some dump like this restaurant looks. Smoking is allowed, it’s barely got any windows and the smell of every meal mixes and bounces from one table to another.

But it’s charming is what Blake thinks when she goes in. "I'm no fool, I read the reviews beforehand," she admits. She watches Yang bring a palm to her heart, mouth wide open and a sad expression taking over. _Fake_ , Blake knows. She’s not sure how, but it’s not hard to know exactly what Yang really means. __

Like, she says: "What, didn't trust me?" and Blake can tell that she never expected her to have agreed to a location without scouring the internet for information.

"The name is _Underground_ , and you were on pain medication. I wasn't sure if you were kidding or not." She spells it out, as if she has reason for it. As if Yang doesn’t know exactly what she’s going to say already.

Yang shakes her head, lets out a sigh. "I'm offended. I only take the serious girls here." If Blake was counting, this would have to be the first surprise of the night.

"Oh, are we already serious?"

"About getting to know you, yeah."

"And what number am I, then?"

"One."

And there it is; Yang is an open book to her, that’s what needs to be said. She doesn’t want to do the same—she wants her guard up and her awareness raised around her. Weiss tells her that Yang’s dangerous, she should be careful. She says, I don’t know a girl that hasn’t had her heart broken around Yang. _Don’t get me wrong, she’s amazing… But she’s not as open as she seems_.

Weiss has been wrong about less important things, though. So Blake does the only thing that’s worth it: she opens up, too.

"I'm flattered." )

-

They’ve been driving for an hour, following Yang’s GPS into a suburb that neither her nor Ren are familiar with. This is the first time she visits, and she plans for it to be the last. The night is rainy just like any April night has the potential to be.

It’s hell to drive in, Yang doesn’t envy Ren in the least. They are mostly silent, and Yang prefers it to stay that way. She doesn’t expect herself to be nervous about it, she’s been to worse places to book a fight; but she _is_. There’s nothing she can do about it now.

"Where is this thing?" Ren asks, successfully dragging her out of her own thoughts. Sometimes she wonders if he knows exactly when he should distract her—he’s good at nailing the timing of it.

"We're almost there,” Yang replies, checking the distance left to the destination. The GPS sounds itself signaling they should go right, follow the path for another half a mile until they arrive. “Remember what I said." He doesn’t need to repeat her words, but Yang would be grateful for it.

"I'm here for protection.” Yang raises her eyebrows. “Just a friend to them, though."

They drive another couple of minutes with Ren purposely slowing down so they can see this place. Neither of them expect it to be a bar in a place like this. It’s surrounded by some stores and not far from a block of houses, but at least there’s place to park.

Yang fiddles with her fingers, then unbuckles the seatbelt. Ren waits for her to make the first move to get out of the car, leaves the keys in ignition just in case.

She might change her mind, he must think. But she tells him:

"I need this thing." Her tone is nothing but certain, as sure as she can be. Need is a strong word for it, but Yang thinks it fits. The only things she needs more are Blake, and not losing herself over an unpaid debt; she can get one of those this way.

"Remind me why?"

"The payout is too good to pass up. I can stop after it."

"And you're going to?"

She _is_. If there’s any chance to get the other, it’s to stop completely. She doesn’t intend on going right back to Blake when all is said and done.

Honestly, she’s quickly running out of steps to follow when it comes to this. Yang’s not even sure if Blake still wants her back.

"That's the plan."

-

The negotiations pass with flaws, but yang gets the fight. February 14th. the date is supposed to be her last day of fighting, if she wins. she's confident enough about it, but it's two days too late. 

February 12th is when Cinder had set the due date. she tries to move the fight, but the venue is already set. She’s fresh out of choices. The ones that will work, anyway; she has to extend the deadline.

she trusts herself, but mercury doesn't. Yang wouldn’t, either, but he’s a douchebag who likely gets off on hunting those with debts, being Cinder’s bounty hunter.

"Cinder doesn't take kindly to late payers,” he tells her over the phone, and she can practically hear the smirk in his voice. He’s glad to hear that she needs more time.

"Two days, that's all I need. I have a part of it, I can give it to you right now."

"All or nothing, Xiao Long. Don't be late."

Perhaps he’ll be more forgiving when she hands him the money. Until then, she’ll find the place to hide for a few days, somewhere he can’t find her.

He doesn’t know her address, but Yang is sure he has other ways of tracking her down.

-

( "Do you always put out after the first date?"

They’re at Blake and Weiss’ place, empty save for the two of them. There’s advantages to having memorized Weiss’ schedule involuntarily. They might have their own rooms, but she doesn’t expect this to go quietly into the night. Not when Yang’s looking at her like _this_ , head tilted sideways, smile that could devour her without a complaint.

"Only when I know there'll be a second," Yang says confidently, looking for any sort of direction as to which door leads to Blake’s bedroom.

Blake challenges it, as if she has any ground to stand on. "Oh, you _know_ that?"

"We're not done, Belladonna,” those words could have sounded like a threat if said by anyone else. Yang makes them addicting, _true_. “We both know it. You can't get enough of me."

"Your ego is clouding your judgement," Blake says, as if Yang isn’t completely right. The way her voice trembles gives her away completely, and she’s nothing but fine with it. 

"You're not a good liar, you know."

"Well, shit, that's no good for a political science student, is it?"

"We can work on it." ) __

-

Yang pushes herself. She trains constantly; not unlike her routine, but each day she goes harder. She needs the cash badly enough to push herself past what she believes are her limits.

She can manage it, too. Daily training until the fight, nightly runs for cardio. With her opponent this time, it’ll be harder. She draws on others’ energy to keep up most fights, but Ruby won’t be there.

If she knew, it’d be hard to get her not to call anyone to stop her. Unfortunately, Yang is acutely aware that she would succeed. So if she can escape Mercury and Emerald foe the time being, she can escape Ruby, too.

She has to.

She’ll be in the clear as soon as she hands over their money and she can move on with her life as it’s supposed to go.

-

( Blake gushes over Yang so much that she's pretty sure Weiss is sick of her. Or confident about it, however you want to define it.

"Oh my God, _stop_. I'm happy you seem to have found the love of your life, but I came over to work on this project. I have plans tonight." It’s effective enough to stop her, because she has no _idea_ what Weiss’ plans could be. This strategy of getting her to shut up about Yang will only work once, though.

“Sorry, I had no idea we had more important things to discuss. Tell me about these Valentine's Day plans." )

-

It's too easy, hiding out at Ren's place.

The fight, not so much. The guy opposite her is buff and ready, he knows to expect every move. But Yang has plans to throw him off. She takes enough hits to be dizzy, but the fight is no longer than ten minutes, when she gets the right punch in. 

A knockout, an end of her career. It seems stupid to miss it already, but when the guy falls to the ground, Yang feels bad about leaving it all behind. Not for the injuries earned, but the thrill of it all.

It feels exhilarating just to stand there, basking in her own glory. The crowd is dispersing, sweat’s running cold over her abs, and there’s nothing left chaining her to this life.

She knows the thrill of Blake will be all worth it, if she can get her back.

Mercury and Emerald wait out back for her, both with a gun in hand. "No need for those. There's more in here than agreed upon."

Yang waves the envelope with the money inside it and throws it at them. It falls in front of them, but their looks don't change. It takes a lot for her to be scared, but right now? She's looking at Mercury, lifting his gun. "Cinder doesn't take to late payments too well."

-

When Yang wakes up, she’s in the hospital. Something is glaringly missing, and Yang almost thinks _Blake_ before anything else, but she knows it’s more physical. Her arm is bandaged up; what’s left of it. She reaches for her scroll, the clock tells her it’s five in the morning. The scroll lights up with twelve new message notifications, nine more on other apps. Her scroll’s as messy as always, littered with more unnecessary notifications from games and news apps.

She doesn’t pay any mind to any of it, she just wants to know the time.

There’s a button next to the bed to call the doctor, so Yang does it. Someone should know she’s awake, call her family if they aren’t already notified. Her emergency contact is Blake instead of her dad, since she needed someone in the city. Ruby was the first choice, but she’s also the one who would panic and call him, and she doesn’t need that.

“Hey, little dragon.”

He’s still there with the doctor, and Yang’s now sure she’s been at the hospital for a long time if he’d had time to come already.

“Miss Xiao Long,” the doctor says, nodding his head. “How are you feeling?”

-

Tai stays in the city for a week after Yang’s released from the hospital. He cooks and cleans for them, and both him and Ruby obsess over her. It’s suffocating. At least Weiss has had the decency to let them have their space, and Yang’s grateful for it.

Other than her arm, everything is _fine_ with her. No other extensive damage. There’s really no need for them to stay home at all times and hover over her. The whole time, though, Yang’s sure they’re waiting for something. Like they are there to catch her fall. She won’t.

So she tells them. “I’m not going to break, I’m good,” she says. They’re having lunch, the TV is on in the background, but no one is watching the news. General Ironwood is talking about some sort of advancement in the military, these days they keep going in circles about the same thing they’re trying to sell to the public.

“We know you’re not,” Ruby replies with ease. It doesn’t sound convincing, not by Yang’s standards. She’ll give it to them: she’s expected to, long overdue. But if she hasn’t let anything break her until now, then there’s no way this will cross the line.

“Then why are you looking at me like you think I will?”

This time, Tai cuts in. “We’d understand if you did,” he lets her know. It’d all be fine and dandy if she didn’t _already_ know that. They’ve always been close, she can’t count the times she’s thanked whatever powers are beyond them for it in the past week. Because as suffocating as they might be, they’re her only saving grace.

“Listen, when you’re ready,” he starts, and Yang rolls her eyes immediately in response. “Qrow and I know Ironwood. We’ve already contacted him about your arm, he’s happy to help with it in Atlas.”

“He sent some models,” Ruby says, and if Yang wasn’t sure her sister is mostly worried, she’d say she is excited. “They’re really _cool_. Like, there’s one with a—”

“Ruby,” Tai says, “when Yang’s ready, I’m sure she’d love to hear about them.”

“I don’t have the kind of money needed for that.”

“Honey, I don’t want you to worry about that. We have some favors to cash in, and I have my savings. Whenever you’re ready.” He says it with such confidence, that Yang’s pretty sure there’s something else behind it. She doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“I’ll let you know.”

-

( Blake panics first. She runs to Yang as soon as Mercury and Emerald turn their backs, yells out her name. Yang doesn’t seem to hear her, doesn’t seem to register it. Her eyes are wide open, but the shock is setting in.

She does what she can, takes off her sweater and wraps a sleeve around Yang’s arm, to help with the bleeding. She’d get Yang to her car, get her safely to the hospital without calling the emergency services, but Yang doesn’t seem stable enough for that. So she calls, tells them everything they need to know.

Her face is stained with tears already when they arrive, and they offer her a ride to the hospital. It makes her uneasy, having to sit in the passenger seat while Yang is in the back, but she doesn’t stand in the way.

Yang is in surgery for at least three hours, and Blake goes from pacing, to sitting down, to checking on her with the nurses. Ruby and Weiss come as soon as they can, and Tai joins them soon after that. She updates them on what she knows.

“She’ll be okay,” Ruby tells her. “It’s _Yang_.” She says it like it’s supposed to mean something, her name. Blake’s not sure exactly what it can be in this situation.

“I know,” Blake nods. “I know,” she says again, for herself.

Despite the assurance, Blake has no _idea_ what will happen tonight. )

-

Yang keeps having dreams. For a _month_ , when she dreams, it’s Blake holding her hand at the hospital. She looks like she’s been crying for hours, hair up in a ponytail.

“I’m here,” she tells Yang, “You’re okay.”

Yang’s vision is blurred, trying to focus on Blake the whole time. She doesn’t manage, but she hears herself saying, “You’re here,” in a coarse, low voice. “Hi.” She thinks she wants to smile, but she’s not sure she manages it in her state.

“Hey.” Yang doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard Blake use that voice the last time. When she wakes, it’s the only thing she can remember clearly, the softness echoing in her mind. “You’re okay, you just need to rest.”

She longs to hear it again, but she doesn’t call. Maybe if she ever gets enough courage for it, one day she will. But she won’t have Blake thinking she’s crawling back to her because her career is effectively ruined now.

She wants her to know that Yang is calling because she means it, because there’s no other way for them. There never was.

It’s all wild dreams, anyway.

-

( Their start is smooth, the rest only a dream that follows. Yang is different from anyone she’s ever been with, it’s encapsulating. The way she smiles at her, Blake would never get from anyone else. It’s the type of smile that pierces right through her, and if she’s addicted to anything, it’s that.

Often, Yang asks, “What?” when she stares too long, and all Blake can do is kiss her, as if it’s any explanation for her gaze. Yang laughs at her, teasing. “Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Nope,” Blake pops the p happily, shaking her head. She doesn’t intend to stay away. )

-

Yang decides to go get her prosthetic late in April, when Atlas is more forgiving with rain than Vale could be. She uses it as an excuse for a vacation, as if she needs one. She hasn’t done anything for the past month and a half, despite Ruby’s objections.

Half the time, she believes she’s just humoring everyone, going to Atlas for this. It’s not like she’ll be back to a hundred percent. Nothing promises her that, not without work. Even then, Yang’s sure, it’ll be hard to get used to it all. It’s overwhelming, doing everything with one arm, but she can imagine it being worse.

She’ll get reminded of what she lacks and what she owns, struggle to do the simplest things. That might be the norm for her these days, but it doesn’t mean she’ll get used to it any time soon. Ruby tells her it gets easier, but Yang knows she’s just trying to make her feel better about it all.

She always says it when she notices that Yang is watching her play a game, or typing away on her computer for one of her final projects. Ruby has a kind voice and a kinder face, even when she can’t hide her worry.

But Yang’s fine; she’s okay.

She’ll get through it all.

-

There’s a fine line between tough love and going overboard; Taiyang Xiao Long is becoming the master at toeing it. Yang is half-pissed, half-groggy when he comes in, already awake. The bed is too comfortable for her own good, maybe she should ask for the brand later. The whole room is everything she isn’t used to, courtesy of the General.

It must be nothing for him, getting them the rooms. Their first meeting, he held a private dinner for just the three of them: Tai, Yang and him. Extravagant by all means and more than was necessary. She’d joked that Ironwood must have owed Tai a whole lot, but all that the General had shown afterwards would prove him just the type of guy to do it for nothing.

All of it is too much; Yang knows she deserves none of it.

"You'll be late for your fitting," Tai tells her, not stepping farther than the door. He's giving her space, still.

And Yang puts a pillow over her face. It muffles her words. "That's the plan."

The plan, to put it bluntly, went to shit a long time ago. Not that Yang's pessimistic.

Or exactly that she is.

It's better than in the first few days after the shooting, but still not quite there. It doesn't have her seal of approval, no grin behind it to act as backup.

"You came to Atlas for a reason, and it's not just to spend time vacationing with your dad." He sounds like he wants the latter, too. But he has that in his voice, nostalgia with no effort needed.

Yang scoffs, "Like I don't visit just for the fun."

"You don't," he stops any further comments. "As much as I would like that, you seem to prefer Vale."

"Used to have all I needed there, and you like the city, too. You visited too much," it's only a complaint in form, she doesn't mean any part of it.

"I don't visit for the city." It's nice—to have someone there beside her. Tai doesn't ask questions, he doesn't leave room for refusal, he's what Yang needs right now. "Get ready, or I'm dragging you in pajamas."

"Would love to see you try."

-

She goes anyway. He's right, Yang's not there just to sulk around in bed, as much as she wants that to be the case. She has extra money from the fight and Tai is helping her figure out the rest, because bionic arms are a fuckton of money. Go figure.

They tell her she's lucky, that she could have lost more. With hits like that, they say, the shooter was either very precise or the polar opposite. As much as she hates Mercury, she doesn't doubt for a second that he got what he came for.

She doesn't want to hear it, anyway. She feels like the least lucky person in the world. It's _dramatic_ , but it's true.

So the doctor and nurses can save their lucky talk for someone more optimistic. She doesn't care for it, she tells them as much.

-

( Blake expects Yang to still be there when she turns the water off. It’s too quiet, the TV isn’t on, but she hopes that Yang is just opting to lie down and rest. She needs it. There’s a lot on Blake’s mind—graduation, the final few exams, getting into a grad program, _Yang_. Somehow, the latter overpowers the rest with ease.

She comes out, towel wrapped around her, hair up in a bun, greeted by an empty apartment. It somehow doesn’t hit her right away, she has time to sit down on the armchair before the tears start coming in. Her head’s in her hands; there’s something worse than watching Yang get punched into oblivion.

Blake has half the mind to call, say that she isn’t serious. Come back, she’d tell Yang, come back to me. It wouldn’t change the finality behind her words. It wouldn’t change anything. How is she supposed to give all of her to Yang, when Yang’s giving herself away on nights like these.

The fact that she’s the one at the apartment alone means Yang has left. Left, walked away, broke everything they’ve been building for years. How come it feels like Blake’s the one running, then?

Her heart is beating out of her chest, half of her is _gone_ , vanished with Yang. It’s supposed to hurt, the broken heart, she’s painfully aware of it.

For nights, she closes her eyes and she sees Yang leaving her apartment, only her back in the picture before the door and the apartment flash with loneliness and an unbearable tide. She doesn’t sleep for a week, not a full night that she prays for. Weiss tells her it’s not too late, Yang would take her back.

But Weiss wasn’t there when Blake had meant every word she’d said to Yang. In the end, it’s probably for the best that they’re not together anymore. She doesn’t have to go to any more fights and watch her girlfriend bloody and bruised.

She starts running in the mornings, because it’s the only thing she feels like, a runner. Exhausted, she’ll come back to her apartment and do nothing but study for the exams. Exhausted, she’ll be able to sleep again without any dreams of Yang, of the times they’ve had. Of the time they’ve wasted. )

-

A couple of months pass until she gets her arm. It's a whole process, apparently. She gets to pick the color, something she doesn't think would happen, and of course she matches it with her hair.

On the night before she gets the arm for good, Weiss calls.

"How are you doing? Ruby says you're in Atlas again to get your arm." There's no distance between them; Weiss, Yang is sure, has proven herself as a true friend past her being with Ruby. She hasn't doubted her sister's choice, but it's nice to know who'll understand you and help you through tough times.

"Yeah, _finally_." Yang sighs at the word, lustful. Her predicament, as uncomfortable as is, is getting better. She can finally breathe. "I'm only here for a few days, to adjust to it for the first time. Then it's right back to Vale. Ruby has been paying the bills alone for too long."

"You know she doesn't care, right?" Weiss asks, and _yes_ , Yang knows. Of course she does. But with the arm payment, as reduced a price as it is, now she can get back to contributing by doing actual work.

"Yeah, I'm aware," Yang replies, annoyance evident. "It's starting to piss me off." She doesn't have a problem with people paying for her, but she's restless and Ruby's blaze attitude about taking over rent and bills doesn't mix well with that.

"She just wants you to feel better," Weiss says, like she needs to explain.

Weiss can't see her, it's just a voice call, but Yang is pretty sure her eye roll is audible. "She's not subtle, Weiss, I know. She tells me that twice a day at minimum."

"I'm just saying," Weiss starts, taking in a loud breath in the pause. "If you need more time to heal, that's fine. I can always lend you the money for rent."

"We'll manage," Yang tells her.

There are a lot of things Weiss can say, but instead they both let seconds pass, some time to relax, move on from the topic.

It's silent before Weiss says, "She asks about you."

When Yang replies, "I don't care," she means anything but that. She closes her eyes, shuts them tightly and shakes her head. Maybe she'll believe herself that way.

"She regrets it, she just didn't want you fighting. She thought you'd choose her." Weiss' logic is sound, something Yang had avoided talking about with people so far. Successfully, until now.

"I always choose her," is barely a whisper when it comes out.

"Your actions tell a different story."

"If I hadn't got shot by that asshole, my actions would have been different," Yang groans, already over it. "You can ask Ruby, I don't care about explaining it to you."

"Alright," Weiss backs off, and Yang knows she doesn't really want to. "I'm here for you, too. I know I was Blake's friend first, but I'm not choosing sides."

"I know, Weiss."

She can't choose sides, more like. It's either cowardly or brave, Yang can't quite put her finger on it.

"I love you," Weiss says.

"I know," Yang replies.

-

( Blake has met Ruby a few times, but Ruby wants to make it _official_ , whatever that means. They have dinner, the four of them: Yang sits opposite Blake, the spot next to her taken by Weiss. They’re laughing away after the tacos, drinks still half-full. It’s safe to say everything’s gone like Yang had been sure it would.

"This is amazing, we're like a team. _Oh_! We should start a band!" 

"Blake can't carry a tune to save a life," Weiss quips, and Yang watches as Blake leans her head back, narrowing her eyebrows. She laughs, uncaring. She doesn’t want Blake for her singing, she couldn’t care less.

Blake, for her part, plays the hand she’s been dealt. She’s great at it, saying, "Gee, thanks," like she means the offence.

Ruby’s the only one who takes it seriously, having not known Blake for more than a couple of hours. She already has a different scenario in her head from the one before. "But _you_ can sing, Weiss. Yang is great on the drums, I can play the guitar. Blake can be on the... tambourine!"

"I can also play the guitar," Blake provides, and that’s where Yang cuts in:

"I didn't know that."

"Did you think that the one on my wall is just there for decoration?" It makes sense; but the image of Blake playing was enough to get Yang going on the worst of days, she doesn’t need this knowledge. There are things at Blake’s apartment that make no sense being there, gifts from her parents, mostly her dad, that she’s just keeping there to not offend him. The guitar didn’t seem out of place.

"Well... yeah," Yang admits, shakes her head and laughs at her own stupidity. _Of course_ Blake is able to take her breath away doing nothing but being able to play the guitar. Not even _playing_ , just acknowledging it.

"I thought you'd show her in the first week of knowing her, you like to do that.” Weiss has an advantage here: she knows both of them. Yang less than Blake, but the point stands. Yang is mid-sip, smile on her face still, when Blake replies; so easily.

"I didn't need to impress her with that to show her the skills I have with my fingers."

"Okay, _ew_ ,” Weiss notes, raising her hands, palms facing out. “I'm going to the toilet, Ruby, come with me?"

When they’re gone Yang moves to Weiss’ spot and puts an arm around Blake. She kisses her, grateful for a pause.

Blake moves back, curious look in her eyes. "So your sister is very... different."

"From me? Yeah, she carries far less burdens, I like to keep those close to my heart." Talking is comfortable, Yang doesn’t even need to stop herself. Not even when Blake asks:

"Like what?" She just shrugs, lets out a baited breath. She can say a lot of things, but she chooses her least favorite.

"Like the time I chose to stay with Ruby instead of get to know my mother. For example."

" _Your_ mother?"

Yang clarifies, the story passed a few too many times for her not to be ready for that question. "Same dad, different mothers. Hers was better, mine was a deadbeat who left. But I'd always choose Ruby over her, anyway."

"I!” Ruby’s voice is heard before they even see her. “Know what you meant with that finger thing, and now I don't so much think we should form a band." Blake’s laugh is poisonous, spreads to Yang quite effortlessly.

"Oh no?" Blake asks, just as Yang goes, "We're all adults here, aren't we?"

"You're supposed to be impressing me right now. And if you do that by being gross, that's a strike in my book," Ruby tells her, explains like the rules have been laid out, like it makes any sense for her to be like that at all, with Yang being the older one. They’re only doing this because of Yang’s good grace.

"Won't happen again," Blake crosses her heart with a finger, and Ruby’s gaze doesn’t soften with it. Yang rolls her eyes.

"Better not." Ruby makes a motion, points with two fingers to her own eyes and then to Blake’s.

"Stop fucking around, Rubes,” Yang stops her, chuckling. Ruby looks from Blake to Yang, and Yang leans over closer to Blake. She whispers, doesn’t let anyone else hear her when she says, "Maybe in this case I'd choose you." )

-

The arm is... weird. Not because it's not hers, but because it's relearning how to do everything.

Some things take longer than others, but Yang takes it as an opportunity to strengthen her use of the left hand, as well, so it works. Kind of.

Well enough to get her a job at some point soon, hopefully.

Ruby earns enough to cover them from her gigs, but Yang has also noticed that she takes more of them than normally, missing classes at times because of it. Ruby brushes it off, says it doesn't matter. It matters to Yang.

She has to be capable of providing for them, and it shouldn't be _this_ hard. So yeah, maybe she rushes to get back to working, but she’s stubborn enough to do it.

It's the story of most of her life, too stubborn to quit. The only time it hasn't worked so far was with college, but she had different priorities at that time.

With no college degree, though, she doesn't aim for the high paying positions now. Instead, she practices her drink pouring, ends up applying for bars and by a sick stroke of luck ends up getting a job at an upscale club.

It helps that she knows exactly what to wear to these interviews, she's sure. Yang has always known how to charm her way into situations.

-

Weiss comes over more often than in the past couple of months. She and ruby are dating, it's kind of a package deal with them, and Yang has told them before that she's _fine_ with seeing them all lovey-dovey and shit.

Mostly, she is painfully aware, because their dynamic is nothing like her and Blake’s. They're calmer, they actually end up watching a movie to the end. It's kind of sad, to be fair, but they are also a lot softer. Weiss always says how Yang brings chaos to her life that she's never had before, and that Blake is caught up in the eye of the storm.

 _Was_. Well, she doesn't really say it anymore.

Regardless, that's one thing Yang has to get used to—all in the past now.

-

( "You're going to ruin me, aren't you?"

Yang is shooting back a drink when Blake questions her, almost pours it all over herself when she tries to smirk in the middle of it. It passes without mess.

"At this party? No. Later, though..." Yang has a suggestive twinkle in her eyes, putting the glass down on the first surface—a table—she can find before she closes the little distance there is between her and Blake.

She kisses her, a hand snaking up Blake's back to her neck.

"I'm okay with that," Blake says, breaking for a breath. She reexamines the situation, Yang can actually _s3e_ the process, then says, "Really okay."

"I don't think I could ever ruin a masterpiece in any other way, though. You're safe," Yang assures her.

Safe should be foreign for Yang. Foreign enough to not say it. She considers for only a couple of seconds, if she should be safer with Blake. Then she meets her eyes again and, _no_ , no she shouldn't.

"Weirdly, I think I believe you." 

"I'm very trustworthy." Yang nods, pecks her cheek. Her cheek, then jaw and she slowly creeps her way up the line, until her mouth meets Blake's earlobe. "So trust me when I say that after this dull thing is over, you'll be begging to be ruined." ) __

-

There's a pile of stuff waiting to be picked up. a box of memories in Yang and Ruby's hallway. Yang isn't even supposed to be there when Blake stops by for it, she's been told that Blake will come over later, when Yang's shift is in full swing.

She really should have known not to trust that.

She's not entirely ready to face Blake when she opens the door, thinking it was a delivery guy. Their seafood is on the way, Yang doesn't even check beforehand.

So when her reaction is, "Oh," it's utterly honest. The surprise is as visible on her as it is in Blake's eyes, wider, like a deer in headlights.

"Weiss said Ruby would be the only one here."

"I've been told the same."

At least they're on the same page about that. Not that Yang has any doubts that it's the work of... well, she has doubts, but they're concerned with _who_ rather than anything else.

When there's no more awkward glances to exchange, Blake finally speaks up again.

"I guess I'm just here for... my stuff," she says, and nods towards Yang, like it explains everything that's needed to know.

Yang gets it, she's being weird about it, too. "Yeah. I'll go get it."

For a moment, Yang thinks she'll get away without a comment, just a short exchange of goods.

Then Blake ruins it, "Do you need help?"

Yang has to restrain herself from overreacting, saying no, haughtily replying just to show that she can do it. As if it would show anything but rage bubbling inside her. It's not directed at Blake—it never would be—but at the world in general. The way it looks, it makes her feel weak.

Even the assumption alone, that she can't handle it, it's not something she's ever faced before. Unless there was flirting note to it, anyway; those she regularly ignored, because they meant something different. They didn't imply that she was fragile, just the utter lack of knowledge about her.

All Yang says at the end is, "All good." It's not worth it. She looks at Blake and curves one side of her lips into a smile that says, I can handle it. Believable, almost.

When Yang gets back with the box, remnants of what they used to be, she hands it to Blake. There's a moment when neither of them knows who should speak, but as soon as it passes, it's Blake taking the reins.

"Thanks. It... suits you."

Yang doesn't waste time on a thank you, knows that it's unnecessary. So she just replies with an, "I tweaked it.," to avoid the discomfort that follows.

"Are you— I'll just go." Blake changes her mind mid-sentence, making a motion to leave, turning to the side, towards the stairwell. Impulsively, Yang stops her by answering.

"I'm okay, except for lacking a part. Turns out it wasn't a fighting that would end me." She can't hold the comment back, it gnaws at her from the very first word that Blake has said. Once it's out there, there's no going back; it crosses on Blake's features like guilt, but perhaps Yang is reading too much into it.

She says, "It didn't _end_ you, you still have so much _potential_.," like potential means something to Yang now that she's lost parts of her life. Like she doesn't know that there was more potential in what she could have done before.

"Sure. Are you—" Maybe she doesn't want to bother replying, or maybe she's too rash to let herself do it. She rushes, then, to get the other side, see if they're on the same page. Yang says she's okay, as if she really is, as if Blake wouldn't read right through her.

And then she replies with, "Yes, I'm doing alright.," as if Yang can't do the same. "Listen, this is going to be awkward anyway, so I'll just tell you before Weiss does. I'm seeing someone new, I just wanted you to find that out from me instead of someone else."

"Why would it be awkward?" The question covers the heartbreak, almost too well. Yang thinks that she might be getting used to it, getting over it. She still tests the waters out. "As long as he makes you happy."

"I didn't say it was a he.," Blake says, not touching the happines part. It's easier, Yang's sure, to think you're happy when you don't acknowledge it yourself. It is for her; a smile goes a long way in that game, convincing yourself and others around you. The more they believe it, the more it may come true.

"I know." Blake doesn't call her bluff, stays clear of it.

"Okay."

They leave it at that, nods exchanged before Blake leaves. _Finally_ , Yang's held breath releases, breathing resumes regularly. She hasn't even realized she's been holding her breath. It makes her lighter, but still not ready to let go completely.

-

Yang lets there be a delay between the door closing and her going into Ruby's room. When she opens it, she only stands in the door way, her gaze piercing and furious.

"You're both out of my will," she tells them. Her voice is much calmer than her nerves allow. She's not sure who _exactly_ set it up, but she knows for certain that they've both known it would happen.

"How was it?" Weiss asks, smiling. Not an ounce of regret.

She could say a lot of things, there's enough in her to yell, too, get properly angry. It's what she wants more than anything to do, but losing control isn't an option. She'll do it some other time, when it's more appropriate.

"You should have told me she was seeing someone, at least I wouldn't have looked so dumb."

"Sun isn't really her type, she'll realize that," Weiss tells her. She sounds sure, voice confident enough to convince Yang. Not at all because Yang needs conviction, not at all because she's grasping at that to make this hurt less. Seeing Blake, as unexpected as it was, reignites her whole body, it 

"I'm not with her, I don't care," Yang brushes it off, shakes her head. "But I was _promised_ she wouldn't come when I'm here, which is one of your guys' fault. I just don't know which one." She doesn't threaten to do anything when she finds out, they all know that she'll cool off by that point.

"It was a misunderstanding," Ruby claims, and Yang just flips them off and says:

"I'm sure. Fuck you both," before heading out of the room, the door slammed shut behind her.

-

Tips are crazy at the bar. Absolutely insane. Yang isn't happy to be there, doing what she does, but at least she's making decent money. She'd prefer something she didn't have to do almost daily, but this will do. People order boring drinks and Yang's, for the most part, fine with it. Until a girl comes in and orders a screwdriver of all things.

That won't stand.

"You don't look like you'd drink that shit," Yang says, still moving to get the vodka, anyway. Commenting on people's drink choices is not really her thing, tonight's a little different.

"And what do I look like?" The girl asks; it seems to be more of bemusement than anything, if Yang can read her right.

She says, "Classy cognac and coke, at worst," and she means little about it. Whiskey is Yang's go-to for herself, but this brunette, she doesn't seem like Yang's taste. She has freckles, long brown hair in a ponytail, and everything but a warm and welcoming smile.

"Must think highly of me, then." A smirk, eyebrows furrowed and a lot more game than she lets on.

"Just someone who should have self-respect," Yang is quick to reply, holding the vodka she's retrieved. It's questioning, head tilted forwards slightly.

"Hit me, then." Pleased, Yang does.

-

It's a terrible idea. Horrible by all standards. Yang stops her brain from rational thoughts just for that reason. Ilia's place, and she barely remembers her name, is modest at best. Maybe that's too flattering for the dump they have sex at.

Yang overthinks everything these days. Tonight, she pauses until she's done and ready to head home. Ilia says, "You can stay the night," and it hits Yang far too hard. She shows it with a pause, but Ilia can't read that.

"I sleep in, rather do it in my own bed." She rectifies it with, "No offence," after the fact, a lame attempt.

"None taken. See you around."

They don't exchange numbers; they know better than that. Yang would never call, and Ilia would never get an answer.

-

It rings out in Yang's mind, the reason—you're not Blake. And it's so pathetic, she drinks to forget.

It's been _months_ and Blake _was_ one of a kind, but if she's moving on. Yang should be able to, too. She doesn’t know what it says about her, to be walking off the subway just like the night they broke up and feeling the same kind of pain after a one-night stand. Pathetic, probably. Stuck. Paralyzed.

If only Weiss hadn't mentioned Sun isn't her type.

-

( They’re _home_. It kind of works mysteriously, finding their place. Neither Blake nor Yang know how they can feel the shift. But when they’re kissing on Blake’s couch, no other place feels good enough. It’s certainly not tied to _it_ , Blake knows that it’s more to do with them than any physical location. "I'll never get over you."

"That's the plan.” Yang kisses her to forget, but the conversation carries on. It intertwines seamlessly into the way their lips touch and part, like an orchestra piece. “Why would you?"

Blake kisses her again, craving for a pause before she gathers her answer. She wouldn’t. She _couldn’t_. Because, "You've ruined me for others, Xiao Long," means a lot more than her tone shows. It’s not a _bad_ thing, not in the slightest; but it’s the first time she voices it. She doesn’t see Yang, her eyes are closed for a reason. She doesn’t need to, they’re on the same page.

"No one can match our whirlwind romance, baby,” Yang splatters kisses along her jaw, neck, as she talks. There’s natural pauses, places where she would take a breath replaced with words instead. She breathes in Blake, there’s no need for more. “It's not my fault we're so compatible."

It’s infatuating, the way she talks.

Low, husky; if every word in the world was falling off Yang’s lips, Blake thinks she could take it. She thinks it often, most of the times in situations much like this one. "Oh trust me, I’m aware." There’s something scary in Yang’s voice afterwards, a note of threat behind it. Where Blake would have trembled, she now shivers in excitement. Where she would have fallen, she rises to meet Yang’s lips with hers again, begging for more.

"Why don't you just shut up and let me ruin you, then?"

You've already ruined me for myself, Blake thinks later, as they fall asleep. )

-

"How are finals going?”

It's the middle of the night. Ruby's head is hanging over a book, she's almost asleep. Yang is only now coming back home after Ilia's, and she can't resist startling Ruby.

Who, for her part, plays off the fact that her eyes are half-closed enviously well. “Pretty good, I’m almost done.”

Yang ruffles her hair as she passes her on the way to her bedroom, adding, "Don't work too hard," as she does. It's almost an afterthought, something she doesn't think about before asking, when she turns around just in front of the door. Ruby raises her eyes, gaze trained on Yang.

“Wanna head to the beach when it’s over?”

“Dying to. You and me?”

“Just like the old times,” Yang agrees, nodding. They probably haven't been in two years, but looking back at it now, it seems like a lifetime ago. Lifetime away, too, but the time will pass faster than Yang thinks. She's sure of it.

“Sounds perfect. Is Weiss waiting to propose?”

Yang almost bursts out laughing at the way Ruby slips the question in. It’s posed like she doesn’t care about the answer, but Yang’s sure there’s only one that’s right. Luckily, she has it.

“She wants you to get out of college first, get a job or something." There's no reason not to be honest, tell Ruby that she doesn't know. She wouldn't sell the lie, anyway, and it would all end the same way. With her confessing to Ruby. The real challenge is Ruby not bursting at the seams and telling Weiss she knows. "I told her it’s dumb.”

“She’ll probably ask dad for permission first.”

“Oh yeah, she’s scared shitless about that," Yang nods, laughing. Being scared of Tai is the least reasonable think Weiss can feel, yet somehow she manages it.

“You weren’t,” Ruby adds. Yang thinks she's a bit too honest, too quick to say it. But it's almost four in the morning, and she's right; she lets it pass.

“Yeah, but I also didn’t care about permission. Blake’s her own person, it was just a formality," Yang says, recounting the time they were in Menagerie. The moment is what had taken her back then, nothing else. She's had the ring for a while, carrying it with herself just in case, and being with Blake's parents, seeing their lifestyle—it seemed appropriate to ask. That, and, "Besides, her parents love me. Loved.”

“She looks good. Not like when she was with you, though.” Nothing Ruby says means harm, not to Yang and not to Blake. It's just a side effect of the breakup.

“I wouldn’t expect her to. We both changed each other.”

“I bet you could go over there and get her back.” Ruby snaps her fingers, points at Yang. “Just like that.”

“I’m not the one who ended things.” She isn't, not really. Maybe that's just the way to rationalize her feelings, but she's not put the ultimatum for herself. “I walked away, but she’s the one who drew the line.”

 _A line_ , Yang thinks _, that she has to cross. Not me._ Perhaps that’ll be the end of her, waiting for Blake to make the first move. She never dares let her mind wander to that side, the dark one, because what if she never does?

-

The cabin they always rent is free in the middle of June, the weather forecast is clear skies and no lack of sunshine for that time. Yang books it without a second thought, forgets just one thing.

Weiss’ birthday falls on the first day they’re supposed to be there. Ruby has an answer for it.

“You go, and I’ll join you a day later, it’s totally fine," she says, hands on her hips, back straight. She has a grin on her face, it's nothing if not convincing.

“Are you sure? Sorry, I just booked it without thinking.” Too much thinking, too, but that's another story.

Ruby assures her, nodding enthusiastically. “Even if you _were_ thinking about it, pretty sure it would’ve been taken any other time. I’m sure. Don’t have too much tan without me there.”

“I’ll only make cookies right before you come, promise.”

-

Her bag is packed; that’s the last step before Yang can head out. There’s trains to the beach house whenever she goes, but it’s stupid to wait longer for nothing. Besides, Ruby is practically begging her to go without her, and Yang’s pretty sure it has to do with her girlfriend’s birthday.

She doesn’t think about it.

“Got everything?” Ruby asks when she zips up the bag. She goes through a mental list she’s made: charger, check; bikini, check. That’s all she really needs, but the clothes are in there, too, as well as her gaming system. There’s a TV twice as big as theirs in the cabin, and she’s sure as hell not missing out on that.

“Yep. I’m heading out,” she replies. She doesn’t need to add, “Don’t wreck this place in a day,” but she does just to humor her sister. Ruby ever so predictably rolls her eyes when she says, “We won’t.”

“I know. I’ll see you in a couple of days, Rubes. Wish Weiss a happy birthday, tell her my gift is her knowing me.”

“That was your gift last year.”

Yang raises her arms, shrugs her shoulders. Ruby laughs at her when she says, “And she still knows me.” They both know she’ll get Weiss something small, or big, or whatever she sees that reminds her of the girl, but birthdays haven’t really been her thing. Ruby tries to make them, tries to make everyone’s birthday just as important. She fails, but no one has the heart to tell her.

-

( Weiss' birthday party looks like any other. It's not out of control, because Yang isn't there. It's not distasteful, because it's Weiss. It lands somewhere in the middle of the scale, boosted somewhat by the select people who are in attendance.

Blake wouldn't be there if it weren't for the fact that Weiss would have killed her otherwise. It was a light threat, but resounding all the same. If she wants Blake there, leaning against the wall with a drink in her hand, then she indulges her.

If she sits on the couch, it's Yang there, almost physically. Back hunched, usual wide grin, shots lined up in front of her. She's at the dining table, too, on a chair she always sits on, her hand extended over the one next to it, occupied by Blake on most days.

She doesn't even dare to step in the room until Weiss calls her over, beckoning her to Yang's room.

“Hey, Blake, can you come here for a sec?” The music is playing, a hit off of Nora's playlist, loud enough to make Blake wonder if the neighbors will be complaining again.

“Sure.” The heels click over the floor, a rhythm barely established, ending with the sound of the door closing behind her. “Why are we escaping into Yang’s room?”

Weiss sits her down on the bed; the same one she can remember visiting on dozens of different occasions. It has a broken headboard, the winner of a vicious battle with Blake's head, but Blake was the one laughing after. The old mattress that had Blake feeling like a snob every time she complained about it.

While she's lost in thought, Ruby is shuffling around as if trying to fond something. The loud ah-ha! brings Blake back to the room, sans memories. She sees what Ruby is holding, a box—then she looks closer, shaking her head.

“I’m flattered, but my heart’s already taken by someone else.” She doesn't need to say it, they both know. Weiss rolls her eyes, Blake can see her holding in a groan and hiding a hint of a smile.

“A regular comedian,” Weiss says, lowering her head. She crosses her arms, more important and standing still. “This is why she was fighting. At least in the last few months.”

“She was planning to stop, anyway." The way Ruby takes over from Weiss is so natural, a reflex. "She said seeing you so concerned just wasn’t worth the pay anymore.”

Blake doesn't doubt for a second that Yang had said that. That she believed it, even. “So she just couldn’t stop?”

“She literally couldn’t.”

“The ring cost more than she could afford, she was in debt. She had to pay it off before quitting.”

All Blake can think of is that she isn't worth it. A debt? They'd joke about it, tokens of appreciation getting the best of Yang, forcing her into it. Jokes, Blake thinks, they're always someone's truth.

“What?” The sole word the only thing she can muster, shock slowly setting in. It flows through her body, the reasoning.

“Her last fight was before she lost her arm. She won’t say it, but I'm sure the people she owed the money to were the reason behind her arm.” Ruby lets her know everything. Blake takes in a breath, long and calculated. It seems to hurt as she does.

“So what now?”

“Ideally, you take my spot at the beach. She’s there waiting for me, but I have a hunch she’d rather see you.”

“I can’t just show up," she reasons, sure of it. It's dumb, going without calling. Then again, Yang has every right not to answer her call and she'd be left at nothing again.

“Sure you can. You two are meant to be together.” Ruby is so certain, but Blake can't see the assurance she seeks in her eyes. Yang is a wildcard, they tell her, she's more unpredictable than ever.

But Blake knows that's not true: she's never been anything but predictable for her, finding comfort in her arms no matter the circumstances. The atmosphere around her shifts, and Blake is too close to ever be taken away by it.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Blake, we saw the way you looked at the box. You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

There's a quiet in the room when everyone seems to take a long breath in, and let it out. Not synced up or anything, one longer than another. Until Weiss breaks the moment:

“Go get your girl, please.”

It's like they have something riding on it, the please. Their sanity, probably. Consciousness. One or the other. She knows she has both.

Ruby makes her laugh as she takes the box, getting up and heading out of the room, the apartment.

“She’s starting to become annoying doing nothing but working.” )

-

Yang doesn’t even go to the beach on the first day. The familiarity of the cabin takes her by surprise, and she doesn’t want to leave. Ruby will force her out as soon as she arrives, but for the first day, she has resting on the couch on her calendar and drinking a twelve-pack. The twelve-pack has a dent in it by the time she completely gives up, taking her system for gaming and setting it up.

She doesn’t play anymore—her hand doesn’t work as trained, but if she gets into an open world, at least she can explore, make it gain some familiarity for the buttons. It’ll take time, they’d told her. She doesn’t have patience for that. By the time she can manage to pass a quest, she’s about ready to pass out until morning.

In the middle of the night, there’s a knock on the door. Ruby’s always comes earlier than expected, but Yang’s scroll shows the time as three in the morning, and that’s a bit extreme. Yang swears, whenever she leaves them, the two of them can’t throw a proper party.

Another knock comes, this time more hurried, impatient.

Yang gets up, strolls to the door, unlocks it, opens it. Almost doesn’t look to see who it is; it _should_ be Ruby. Instead, there’s Blake, standing with arms crossed in front of her. There’s probably a word for how shocked Yang is, but her brain is steered in different directions. _What are you doing here?_ or _Where’s Ruby?_ and even _Is Ruby okay?_

She says, “Wasn’t expecting you,” because Blake’s eyes aren’t worried. Not for anyone else. They’re scanning Yang’s body, lingering longer on her prosthetic arm.

“Ruby isn’t coming,” she replies, distraction clear in her tone. Nothing more will come, Yang knows. She’ll fill the silence, the comfortless state they’re in currently, facing each other.

“Nice to know she’ll betray me without even a hint. _Again_.” They’ll talk later, Yang will be mad, Ruby remorseful. In the end, they’ll both smile, shake their heads. As it used to be, Yang will think.

Ruby is well-meaning in everything she does, her plans work out with hitches and bumps, but they’re executed. Somehow, someway; they always end up going through. When it comes to strategy, Yang would trust Ruby to the ends of the world with it.

“She meant well,” Blake says as if Yang doesn’t already know it. “I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t shown me _this_.” She holds the ring box in front of Yang, and she’s already noticed it. It’s black, a yellow accent in the shape of an abstract heart on it.

“She had no right to,” Yang says, shrugging her shoulders. It’s the truth; while Yang gave permission for Ruby to tell Weiss—ah, _Weiss_ , she’ll talk to her, too, talk about that negative influence on her sister—but said nothing about Blake, of course. The ring is still there because she’s hopeful, nothing more. She’s had to reconstruct herself to have her pieces match Blake’s again, to fit into her hold whole.

And rushing it seems… well, it doesn’t seem like rushing it, having Blake there. She considers leaning forward, kissing her; reconsiders, and it all falls to water, the plan.

“I know.” Blake lets out a breath, nods her head. “But she did it. She and Weiss,” she adds the last part for Ruby’s sake, Yang’s sure. “This was worth sacrificing our relationship for?” It’s out in the open now, everything. Yang wouldn’t believe it if Blake tells her that she wasn’t expecting a ring; they’ve been on that path for a long time, only a real proposal separating them from marriage, a long life together by each other’s side.

Before everything had happened, Yang knew she could spend an eternity with Blake, thick and thin.

“Not that.” It irritates her, how she has to _explain_. This would have been easier on the night Blake made her choose, when they’d been as one, always able to read each other. Now, the connection is strained. “ _Ugh_.” She pulls the door open further, moves out of the way. “At least get inside.”

They settle in the living room that the door leads to, sit down on the armchairs. A safe distance from each other, connected solely through the way Yang pushes the chair to be turned towards Blake’s. Moments pass, Blake still has the ring; she shakes it.

“So?”

It’s so _stupid_. Idiotic. Yang can’t believe herself when she says, “I had to pay it off, I loaned money off sketchy people for it.” Faced with Blake, nothing but them in the room, nothing in the world more important than _them_ —Yang acknowledges what she hasn’t wanted to for _so long_. She has never even needed a ring to propose.

“For a _ring_?”

“Have you not seen it?” A shake of a head. A chuckle. “Geez. Open it.”

-

( “Marry me.”

Yang says it more casually than she thinks it. Her eyes are focused, grin spreading from hers to Blake’s face. It’s a business arrangement, the way they bounce off each other and balance their facial expressions. Blake’s sullen features light up when Yang’s around; Yang’s rough edges smoothen when Blake’s hand is in hers.

“You’re insane. I can’t believe you got a ring pop,” Blake tells her, shaking her head. She can believe it, will believe it, has to. Yang is as serious as she will be on another occasion, asking her to marry her with a real ring instead. 

“What? I’m totally serious.” Blake sees through the chuckle, kisses her cheek.

She doesn’t have a valid reason; she’s in school won’t work; they’re too young is crap. “We’ve known each other for three months, ask me again later.”

“Oh, I will.” The statement, accentuated by a wink, makes Blake laugh. It’s so carefree, a beacon on their future calendars. The date isn’t set, but the reminder is still there. _Some day, some month, some year: say_ yes _to Yang._ __

“And it better not be with a ring pop,” she adds, just for good measure.

“Yes, your Highness.” They’re back to laughing, Blake’s cheeks flush with color when Yang addresses her.

“I’m not royalty, I just don’t want my fingers sticky for forever.”

“You are my queen, though,” comes out of Yang’s mouth faster than it probably should. Faster than Blake expects. “And deal. Next time, it’ll be with a crown you deserve.” )

-

“ _Yang_.”

It’s not _exactly_ a crown. But the ring is in shape of one, silver with diamonds. The type of ring that Yang has no business trying to buy, and Blake deserves to have. The silence between them is palpable this time, Blake’s eyes are focused on the ring and Yang’s on her. It’s infuriating how they could just be sitting there, saying nothing, and still understand everything.

Yang breaks it, the silence; she can’t stand it anymore.

“I made a promise, I kind of followed through,” she says, following with a small laugh, writing it off as almost nothing. Almost, but not quite enough.

Blake meets her gaze, shakes her head. “I would have married you with that ring pop proposal.”

“I know. But you deserved more.” The world, she thinks, you deserved the world. Yang doesn’t have a complex—she knows Blake and her are made for each other, she’s right for Blake. But if she can amplify being together somehow, she will; a ring doesn’t really do much for it, she’s aware now. “I’d do it all again. Maybe I would have just told you, but you had to say it a _month_ before I was done.”

She says _month_ like thirty days would have been long enough to solve everything, like Blake wouldn’t have been mad still, that she didn’t just ask for help. But Yang’s pride wouldn’t have allowed for it, anyway.

“I wasn’t worth it,” Blake tells her, looking at her arm.

Yang shrugs, making fists of both her hands, letting it go again. She’s almost got the hang of it, the small movements of her fingers. She doesn’t trust herself with a keyboard, but it’s getting better. “I would lose much more for you,” she says. It’s not Blake’s fault, far from it. But Yang knows she blames herself, she sees it now. None of it is on her.

“I know. I’ve ruined you, too,” Blake replies, sighing. She bites her lower lip, Yang sees her again. It’s just the two of them, here and now; she wouldn’t want anything different.

“You have.” Yang gets up, walks closer; she offers a hand— _her_ hand—to Blake, who takes it eagerly, gets up to stand next to her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stand for a few silent seconds, ticking by in Yang’s head. Until her smile widens, teeth showing. Blake pauses the moment between them staring at each other, wondering who’d kiss whom first.

“So, what now?”

Yang tilts her head, eyebrows furrowed. “How’s Sun doing these days?”

“He didn’t get me. He wasn’t you.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Yang agrees. She’d like to say it with less confidence, but she doesn’t kid herself. Between the two of them, no one else would be enough. It’s a _Blake and Yang_ kind of thing, no one else would get it. The way they see each other, know each other; it’s more than anyone else could.

“I want _you_.”

The emphasis hits Yang, all she can do is chuckle. It’s not the proper emotion, laughter, but she doesn’t know to react better. Doesn’t try to. Between the two of them, she doesn’t have to explain herself.

“Oh, you’ve got me, baby.”

The kiss that follows—the kiss Yang leans forward for, her hands on Blake’s hips—is falling back together, the only way they know how. The proper way. Both their eyes are closed, the rest of the world unaccounted for. It doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. None of it does, when Blake puts a hand on Yang’s cheeks, careful and gentle.

There’s more solace in knowing that Blake is still holding the box, not letting go.

-

( Yang walks into the apartment, a box in her arms, shutting the door with her leg. She doesn’t exactly drop the box, but it clatters when it gets to the ground, right in the hallway. She’s panting, the three flights of stairs seemingly endless from her perspective now.

“I told you to let that one stay until someone can help us move the rest of your stuff in,” Blake tells her, shaking her head. You say one word and Yang takes it as a challenge. Thankfully, she now at least knows what not to say. Not that she plans to move anywhere else in the near future. Yang moving in is moving enough for now.

“It was no big,” Yang says, regaining her breath. “Could’ve taken more boxes. Easy.” Blake openly laughs at her, taking her hand and pulling her forward into the kitchen. She pours Yang a cup of coffee, already spiced up with a little cinnamon and milk, and puts a cup of tea in front of the spot she normally takes.

“You have nothing to prove to me,” Blake tells her pecking her lips gently. “I don’t need you hurting your back because you wanted to show off.”

“I know, I know,” Yang rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning from ear to ear. “I _could_ prove I’m yours, though,” she winks, and Blake all but laughs at that, shakes her head. “What? I know you think I’m hot when I get a little sweaty,” Yang adds.

“I think you’re _always_ hot, but maybe we should sit down, have some drinks,” Blake says, following her own words. “We have time.” )

**Author's Note:**

> kudos make me smile a lot, comments are a blessing. check out my [new tumblr](https://tonedeaftechno.tumblr.com/) if you wish.


End file.
